Two years ago, I purchased some land outside of Todos Santos in a little area called Las Playitas. I have photos from the day we first hiked up to our plot. There was no road other than the one straight dirt path that ran up hill from the beach. Walking north or south required ducking under cacti and around other really sharp plants. It was exhilarating and I knew I was on the right track. Buying land in Mexico is as unpredictable and as unlikely as hearing back from the guy who says, "I'll call you" at 3am. Right. "My land" sounds good...but does it really exist and could it ever be something? Today I got a little closer to finding out. With two of my new TS friends in tow, Elizabeth and Zandra and I took The Van out the 7 miles from town -- 7 miles that feel like 20 as you try to continue conversation like business as usual while your teeth chatter and the dashboard rattles to the point of a loud hum. From the main road, we traveled up the hill to find that the road has gotten better. And now there is a road that turns north from it - a nice left turn onto the street that will be my street. My land. My street. Nice.
It was late in the day and we were prepared for a sunset fiesta to celebrate this momentous event: sunset on my land. Of course we had beer, tequila, lime, chips & guac and baby smoked oysters in tow. We know how to throw a sunset party - on a deck or out in the dirt.
From atop The Van, we took in the sunset and our snacks. It was an incredible feeling to be surrounded by nothing. As in, no thing. In the past 3 months, I have fallen deeply in love with the subtle beauty of the desert. I never took the time to understand or enjoy it before. I moved too fast to notice...it was just landscape on the way to something else....San Fran, Vegas, Palm Springs, Mammoth. Framed on one side by the Pacific and on the other by stacks of mountains, including the Sierra de la Laguna, the desert here is is large. All caps, LARGE. It is quietly, subtly large in one glance and overwhelmingly powerfully large in the next. Instead of the vast emptiness that I once saw, now I feel an energy from it that overtakes me and makes my heart beat fast like a big set of waves. It scares me and endears me. It is Large. It is stoic. But it is there for me, supporting me. It is holy.
And in the midst of this great vast holiness is a little plot of land that I will now call my own. It will first be my personal camp site, then home to my personal garage, then before I know it - it will be a neighborhood that asks to be included in conversations about turtles, ecology and other local concerns. I started in the music business with a $4 an hour job in 1991. In 2001, I flew on a private jet with Tim "and others" (as we always laughed we'd be listed after a crash) from London to Philadelphia. It was a moment of absolute astonishment that 10 years had made such a radical change in all our lives. I see that hope of possibility as I stand in the desert with my new friends. On my land.
